The Angel of the Tenement Part 5

"An' if he'd only hed th' sinse to make the furrin' gintleman as could talk the gibberish to question th' Angel choild," said Mrs. O'Malligan indignantly, "sure an' we moight have larned all about her by this toime, entoirely, for there's mony a thing she's tried to tell us an'

can't for the want of a worrud. But foind me a man of yer as does any thinkin' 'thout his woman there to prompt him," she quoth contemptuously, "an' I'll foind ye a polaceman as isn't a meddler in other folks' affairs, as this yere mob is jist anither provin' of."

CHAPTER VI.

THE MAJOR SUPERINTENDS THE ANGEL'S EDUCATION.

"It's a nice, cool morning," said the ever sanguine Miss Bonkowski to Joey, one day late in September, "so, if you will give me your solemn promise--" and Miss Norma paused impressively, emphasizing her words with nods of her blonde head, "not to go to any speakings, nor yet to the dock to fish, nor to any fires, or to a procession, even if it's right around the corner," and Miss Norma drew breath as she finished the enumerating of his various exploits, "why, Angel here can play with you until Mary Carew comes down to get her."

The Major--his cap a little more battered, his belt somewhat the worse from constant wear, but clean as to face and hands, having just emerged from the morning inspection of the Armory janitor, better known to the neighborhood as Old G. A. R.--treated Miss Bonkowski to a salute and a confidential wink, and edged up to the smiling Angel's side. "Yer jus'

leave her wid me," he responded rea.s.suringly, "an' I ain't goin' to do nothin' as ain't square."

And Miss Norma, whose faith in human nature, phoenix-like, ever sprang up anew from the blighted hopes of former trust, accordingly turned her darling over to Joey and hurried off. "For she's obliged to have some one to play with and to get some fresh air somehow," the chorus-lady argued for her own re-a.s.suring, though it remains a mystery as to how she could deceive herself into considering the garbage-scented atmosphere of the neighborhood as fresh, "and Joey's by far the best of the lot around here."

Meanwhile, the small subject of all this solicitude, in clean frock and smiling good-humor, responded at once to Joey's proposal, and the two sat down on the curbstone. In the constant companionship of their two months' acquaintance, the little Major's growing interest in the Angel had a.s.sumed almost fatherly proportions. Hitherto this zeal had taken itself out in various expeditions for her entertainment similar to the one ending in Mr. Tomlin's rescue. To-day it was produced in the shape of a somewhat damaged peach purchased with a stray penny. But the Angel, in her generous fashion, insisting on a division of the dainty, Joey at first stoutly declining, weakened and took half, seeing to it, however, that his was the damaged side.

"When yer was up there," he observed unctiously as he devoured his portion--and he nodded his round little head toward that foggy and smoky expanse about them, popularly believed by the population about the Tenement to be the abode of angels--"when yer was up there, yer had these kinder things every day, didn't yer?"

If her small ladyship's word could be taken for it, in that other life still remembered by her, she had everything, even to hoky-poky ad libitum, to her heart's content, though her testimony framed itself into somewhat more halting and uncertain English.

"What did yer do up there, anyhow?" queried Joey curiously.

"Danced," the Angel declared, daintily devoting herself to her portion of the peach, "her danced and--her danced."

This earthly vocation seemed to fail to appeal to Joey's imagination.

"Nothin' else?" he demanded anxiously. "Didn't yer never do nothin'

else?"

But the Angel had fallen to poking the green contents of the gutter with a stick, and seemed to find the present more fascinating to contemplate than the past.

"Didn't yer never go nowhere?" persisted Joey.

"Her went to school," the Angel admitted, or so it sounded to Joey.

"What 'ud yer do at school?" he inquired.

"Danced," was the Angel's unmistakable announcement.

Joey looked disgusted, but soon recovered and fell to revolving a new idea in his fertile young brain.

"I know where there is a school," he remarked. "I've never went, but I hung on ter the window-sill an' looked in, an' if yer went ter school up there, yer oughter be goin' down here, see!" And forthwith Joey arose.

Amiable as her small ladyship usually was, on this occasion, seeing determination written on Joey's small countenance, she rebelled. "Angel yants to stay here," the young lady declared, continuing to poke at the contents of the gutter.

"I don't wanter make her cry," argued Joey wisely, then cast about in his mind for an inducement. "They have parties to that school, they do,"

finally he observed, "fer I seen 'em settin' 'round tables an' eatin'

one day."

The guileless infant rose to the bait at once, and dropped her stick and slipped her confiding hand in Joey's. "Angel likes to have parties," she declared, and thus lured on, she forthwith followed Joey down the street.

"Some one to see me," repeated pretty Miss Stannard, of the Darcy College Settlement's Free Kindergarten, and laying down her blocks she went to the door.

On the steps outside the entrance stood a small, chubby-cheeked boy smiling up out of knowing brown eyes from beneath a soldier's cap many sizes too large for him, while behind him stood a slender, graceful child with wonderful shining hair, and eyes equally as smiling.

The small boy treated the tall, pretty young lady to a most confiding nod and a wink. "I've brought her ter school," he remarked.

"Oh, have you?" returned the young lady laughing, "then I'd better invite you in, I suppose," and she led the way toward the entry-room where hung some dozens of shabby hats and bonnets. "And what is your name?" she inquired.

"Her name is Angel, it is," responded the little fellow briskly, with emphasis on the p.r.o.noun, as if to let the young lady understand at once that her interest need extend no further than to the prospective pupil.

"Didn't a know I are Angel?" queried the smiling cherub with her accustomed egotistical surprise.

"And what is your other name?" questioned Miss Stannard smiling.

"She ain't got no more," returned the escort succinctly.

"And what is yours?"

"Mine--oh, I'm just the Major, I am," with off-hand loftiness.

"Indeed? And where do you live, Major?"

"Fourth Reg'ment Arm'ry," responded the Major glibly.

"And the little girl,--Angel--you said--"

The Major looked somewhat surprised, "They come from Heaven,--Angels do, yer know," he remarked, staring a little at the tall young lady's want of such knowledge.

"Yes," responded the pretty lady gently, "but where is she living now?"

"Round by me," said the small boy briefly, showing some restlessness.

"With her father and mother?"

The Major, staring again, shook his head, and poor Miss Stannard, despairing, of learning anything definite from this source, asked if he would take her there after Kindergarten, and began to untie the little girl's cap.

Evidently gratified at this attention to his charge, the Major said that he would, and followed the two into the large, sunny room adjoining.

"The children are just going on the circle," said the pretty young lady, "won't you take my other hand and go too."

The Major drew back hastily. "She's come ter school," he declared indicating the Angel, "there ain't no school in it fer me. I'm a sojer, I am."

"Then have a chair, sir, and watch us," said the young lady, with amused eyes, as she brought out a little red chair with polite hospitality.

The young gentleman graciously accepting it, the Angel was forthwith borne away to join the circle of children about the ring, and to Miss Stannard's surprise, with no more ado, joined in the game like one familiar with it all, waving her small hands, singing gaily and, when her turn arrived, flitting gaily about the circle until the sash strings of her little faded dress sailed straight out behind her.